


This time around

by Gabethebabe



Series: Slice of Cherry [1]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everything is happy, GNC Achilles, M/M, Polyamory, model helen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabethebabe/pseuds/Gabethebabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, everyone remembers</p>
            </blockquote>





	This time around

**Author's Note:**

> Diomedes/Odysseus/Penelope is my passion  
> Also something mentioned in the Iliad that TSOA doesn't touch on: Hector and Andromache were really rad.  
> Also, Hector was the only person to consistently be nice to Helen as the war went on.  
> Sorry if this is weird, I'm trying out a new writing style.

“I was a horrible child.” She says, her long figures working on a messy braid. “I was loud, I never behaved, I was horrible, but I was beautiful.” Her lips form a red-stained smile.

“What about me? I was overweight, unsocial, and generally pathetic.” He doesn’t look up from his canvas. It’s a white canvas he’s painting black. She wants to ask why he didn’t just buy a black canvas, but knows that she wouldn’t get a simple answer. “It’s not like much as changed.”

“Patroclus,” She pouts out his name, her voiced edged with a sarcastic form of faux-pity. “You know our children would have been beautiful.” 

“The product of the world’s most beautiful child bride and the tragic lover of aristos achaion.” He puts the canvas down and busies his hand with cleaning the paint off of them. Helen thinks that it’s been months since she’s seen his hands dye-free or paint free.

“If only I’d picked you instead.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “You need to stop romanticizing that life.”

“I can at least romanticize the thought of you and Achilles entangled in passion while he was dressed as a woman.” She smirks from where she sits across from him on their apartment floor.  

*

It was three hours later, or 4 episodes of Ru Paul’s Drag Race later, when he finally gets up the courage to ask.

“Is that why you never married or dated anyone? You remembered?”

She takes a sip of wine the color of her lips. Patroclus still couldn’t believe either of them were already- or maybe it was only- 21. “Yes. I was 12 and thought it was a dream.”

He nods. He knew how horrid it was to remember, so he didn’t prod. She continued anyway.

“I thought it was a dream- I woke up crying and shaking. Then, the next day some friends and I went out for ice cream after school. Paris was there with a group of friends…they looked like some wanna be gang. The second I recognized him ice filled my veins and I ran home. I relived everything in Technicolor.”

Patroclus dragged his hand in circles across the small of her back. “Did he remember you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve made good of never seeing him or Menelaus.”

Patroclus had already told her of when he remembered, and knew she got sick of hearing the story. They continue watching their show as if nothing happened. They were both good at that.

*

It was one of the first fine days of summer. He and Achilles were sitting on the beach, Achilles telling some impossible story that he had already heard ten times over. He listened anyway, smiling and laughing at all the right parts.

Suddenly, Achilles stopped talking and looked at him.

“Patroclus” He said it slowly, _Pa-tro-clus,_ almost as if he was scared of what he was about to do and trying to make the moment last longer. Without warning Achilles leaned forward and pressed his lips to Patroclus’. Their lips fumbled together blindly for a moment before everything came flooding back- every kiss, every touch, ever dance, ever look, every laugh, everything.

They pulled back from the kiss, shaking and scared. They were just 12 and verging on the edge of love. Now they felt ancient and hollow. Achilles shifted next to him, and Patroclus expected him to run but then “I’m sorry I ran from you the first time. I will never run from you again.”

Patroclus took Achilles’ hand. It was a silent, an unspoken understanding flowed between the two. That day had been the final day of their childhood, but not of them.

“I’m sorry I keep thinking about great your ass looked in your armor.” The two laughed and there was peace. Finally, peace for the two of them.

*

Helen met the two of them in college. She was a psychology major, Achilles was music, and Patroclus was art. It was a wonder the three of them found time for each other, but they did.

Helen became the sister Patroclus had always wanted. They talked about everything stereotypical from boys, to fashion, to reality TV while drinking various types of wine.

Helen had even helped Achilles with his make up the first time he went out in drag, but because of how petite he was most people at the bar just thought that he and Patroclus were a straight couple.

 Achilles spent the whole night kissing Patroclus with his purple lips and trying to pretend he didn’t love being seen as a girl as much as he did. Helen spent the whole night flirting with girls and getting things for free.

“I think things are better this time around.”  She commented, words slurred after one too-many free cocktails. Patroclus and Achilles agree. They all knew the other knew and sudden relief filled the room.

“I’m sorry you died for me.” Helen later added while they tucked her into bed.

“We would do it a thousand times over.” Patroclus said, climbing in next to her. Achilles nodded as he cuddled up next to him. The three slept in the same bed. All happy, safe, and warm.

It was the second best sleepover of Achilles’ life.

*

The first best sleepover had been in 9th grade. It was the night before a state meet in track and they were in Agamemnon’s basement.

Achilles still hadn’t forgiven him for what he had done in their past life, and, in fact, the only reason he agreed to go that night was at Patroclus’ request.

“Please, babe, it’ll look suspicious.”

“No, it won’t. He’s an ass. It’s perfectly understandable why I wouldn’t want to go to a party he’s hosting.”

He went anyway because Patroclus gave him _that_ look, and Odysseus promise to sneak some booze from his dad’s liquor cabinet.

He and Patroclus sat up their shared sleeping bag in the far corner next to Diomedes. They sat with the others, passing around a bottle of Vodka that made everyone’s throat burn. The basement’s wooden paneling was plastered with pictures of half-naked girls and posters for shitty bands. Achilles was a little revolted by how stereotypical it all was.

“Look, no offense or anything, but I just don’t get it.” Achilles realized Agamemnon was looking right at himself and Patroclus.

“Don’t get what?” Patroclus asked, voice bored like he already knew the answer. In truth, he probably did. Ever since they had come out to the group, Agamemnon and his brother had made a point to very obviously not be anywhere near them in the locker room or showers.

“Like I just don’t get how you two could fuck each other, or even want to. I mean, right?” He turned to look at Menelaus, who laughed with him.

Next to them, Odysseus and Diomedes clinched their fists in anger. Patroclus looked between the pair and Achilles, wondering who would swing first. However, to his surprise Achilles simply wrapped his arm around Patroclus’ waist and said

“Well, Patroclus and I are more than happy to show just how attracted we are to one another.” Then Achilles’ lips were on Patroclus again. Achilles was fully aware of the audience, but Patroclus was already lost in the sensation. He put his hand on the side Achilles’ face, stroking his prominent cheekbone with his thumb. Achilles moved to sit in Patroclus’ lap, grinding slightly before pulling back.

“Does that help any?” Achilles winked at the brothers. Patroclus, flustered and out of breath, received a high five or 10 from the rest of the party-goers.

Agamemnon stopped sitting with them at lunch after that.

*

Helen, Achilles, and Patroclus graduated the same spring. By that summer Patroclus was working in a popular tattoo parlor in town, and Achilles working on opening his store. Helen, on the other hand, struggled to find work.

“Something will open up.” Achilles squeezed her arm with a smile. Helen scowled.  

“Is that my top? And my lipstick?”

“Don’t be jealous that it looks better on me, sweetie.” Achilles blew a kiss. Helen laughed loudly, and Achilles joined in. The future didn’t seem so scary in that moment.

The summer went on and by fall “Empire Records and Music”, Achilles’ store, was open. It was a two story building with the first floor dedicated to selling CD’s, records, and musical instruments. The second floor was reserved for offices and spaces for music lessons. Achilles bounced off the walls with joy when people flooded in opening day.

Helen ended up sharing an apartment with the couple, as her parents had taken every minute they could to nag her about finding a job and moving out. The two didn’t mind, they said having her around made it all the more cozy.

It was a nice arrangement. Achilles and Helen shared clothes and cleaning duties, Patroclus shared laughs and cooked the best food.

None of them wanted it to change, but they all knew it would eventually.

*

One December day Helen got an interview with a prominent practice.

Three weeks later she got the job. She was more than relieved to finally be able to quit her job at Applebee’s.

That is, until Menelaus came in.

*

He was her first client. She tried to ignore the way her hands always shook around him and the way his eyes lingered too long on her lips.

He said he had anger problems and that no one understood him. She had to bite her tongue. After all, it isn’t polite to tell patients to fuck off.

During a session in March he tried to kiss her. She quit the same day and never looked back.

On the way home she saw an ad for a modeling agency. She saved the number.

*

By the next fall everything changed and even more change was on the horizon.

Patroclus and Achilles had gone on a romantic camping trip and came back engaged.

Helen signed a 3 year contract with Versace, and agreed to be Patroclus’ maid of honor.

Odysseus agreed to be Achilles’ best man; Penelope his maid of honor and Diomedes as a groomsman. Patroclus also asked his friend from work to be his best man and his wife to be another groomwoman. Each party had three people. “We want a small wedding.” They explained.

“So…does ‘guy from work’ have a name?” Helen asked one day while the group was out wedding shopping.

“It’s a surprise.” Patroclus smiled. “He’s coming today, with his wife.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Helen swatted away a hideous fuchsia dress that Achilles held up to her.

“You’ll like this one.” He said, picking up a dress. It was long, red, simple. “Do you like this one?”

“Yes!” She and Penelope exclaimed.

Just then the door opened with a bell’s jingle. “He’s here.”

*

“Helen…my god.” Helen would know that voice anywhere. She turned, tears in her eyes.

“Hector!” She ran to hug him.

 Hector! Who never had a cross word to say about her.

Hector! Who was always nice to her, even during the worst of the war.

Hector! Whose death marked the end of her happiness.

Hector! Who was her best friend, even after all this time.

*

“We’ve seen your ads and your runway shows. You look so glamorous, and look at you now! You look so happy.” Hector hugged her again. He didn’t bother hiding that he remembered, so neither did she.

“I didn’t think I’d see you this time around.” He looked to different, but so did she. She’d died her golden hair a dark chocolate color and chopped it to her shoulders for her the last runway season. He, only the other hand, was covered in tattoos like Patroclus.

“I didn’t think so either.” He smiled and let her go. “You remember Ande?”

“Of course!” She hugged the other woman.

The rest of the wedding party looked on happily. Achilles gave Patroclus a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“So…everyone remembers?” Diomedes asked over his tofu chicken during lunch.

They all shrugged and nodded.

“In that case, sorry we left you like we did.” Odysseus frowned at Patroclus, who in turn shrugged.

“It worked out.”

“How did it?” Diomedes asked, his mouth full.

“Thetis.”

“Well then,” Andromache raised her cup. “To the mother of the bride.”

They all clinked glasses and laughed. It would be good this time around.

**Author's Note:**

> GNC/Drag queen Achilles is also my passion.  
> Hope you liked it???


End file.
